


Chief and the Wildling

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 14:20:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15026546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: A morning encounter leads Chief to recall stories from his past, and an evening of drinking and decompressing from the latest explosive mission causes him to share more of those with his teammates than they were accustomed to.  And if Actor doubted, and Casino teased, if Garrison refrained from judgement, and Goniff listened in wonder to what first Chief, then Meghada recounted, none of that was of any real surprise.   Neither was the truly monumental hangover each of them suffered through the following morning.





	Chief and the Wildling

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Marvelmyra for reminding me to add timing note. This is very early in the game, after Goniff and Meghada are close friends, but before they are anything more. Certainly before Through A Mist Blindly. Love Marvelmyra - she keeps me on my toes!

Chief -"Saw a fox out back this morning when I brought over those papers, Meghada. Real pretty one, red with black markings and just a touch of white under its chin."

Goniff, excited as always by something out of the ordinary, "A real fox??!"

For some reason Chief looked at Meghada as if asking her for the answer; she grinned, "probably. The other kind is more rare now, unlikely to come so close to the village."

The others looked at Chief and Meghada, as if sensing a conversation going on, unspoken; sometimes those were best left alone, they'd decided, before and now, and thought to move on to something else. Well, most of them had decided that.

"Other kind?" No, Goniff wasn't going to let it go. 

Chief wouldn't normally have said much more, but that fox, it had brought back memories of old stories he'd heard when he was very young and there had been a place for him, and people too. All day the memories had come trickling back, all teased out by the sighting of that one fox. Perhaps he wouldn't have talked now, but the young man had had one drink more than he usually did, though that was a good three less than the others had had.

"There's other kinds, Goniff. Same as with wolves and mountain lions and lots of others. There's the real kind, and the sometimers." He frowned, paused before admitting, "I don't remember the word for those, used to know it." He looked a bit sad, losing that piece of who he was, his heritage. "Then there's the shifters, and then the skinwalkers. That last, they're pretty bad, the skinwalkers." 

He had everyone's attention now, especially since this was highly unusual for Chief, all this talking, and the bourbon bottle was being passed around to refill glasses yet again.

"We're taught you respect the real kind, taught we're supposed to try and protect the sometimers, to deal very carefully and cautiously with the shifters, and to kill the skinwalkers on sight, run like hell from them if you couldn't kill them."

They'd finished the dinner she'd fixed - no meat, not tonight, but a vegetable casserole with some kind of grain and cheese, hearty enough to satisfy them well enough, even Goniff, since she'd ended with treacle pud covered in cream. There were herbed and salted crackers on the table in front of them now, a bowl of hazelnuts for the shelling, and they were all gradually coming down off that overly tense high from that last mission, the one with all the explosions ending with the plane crash. 

"The sometimers, we call them 'wildlings'," Meghada spoke calmly, as she rejoined them, having gotten up to get a bowl of salted nuts as well. She had little taste for sweet, but salt, that was a temptation and she'd decided to indulge herself tonight as well as indulging them.

That term got a slow grin from Chief, "remember you saying you thought that's what Goniff was, early on."

She laughed, "aye, it crossed my mind, after I decided he wasn't one of the Fair Folk."

The others were looking more and more confused, though at least Actor knew what she meant by Fair Folk. It didn't mean he was any less confused by her thinking that, taking another look at the wiry blond munching his way through a variety of everything within his reach, but at least he knew what was meant. Sometimes with Meghada, reality versus fantasy, truth versus old legends and stories, it all got rather interwoven, and he wasn't sure what she really believed or didn't believe, expected them to believe, not always. Though usually Chief didn't join in, which made Actor sit up and pay more attention.

Chief took over, "see, you have the real animals. Those are easy, dangerous but easy enough to understand. The sometimers, the 'wildlings'," he said with a nod of thanks to Meghada for giving him that term, "they're animals most of the time, just they can switch to human sometimes too. That came as a gift from one of the Old Ones, the ones with power, as a reward for a favor one of the wildlings had done the daughter of one of the Old Ones, so we're taught we're supposed to look out for them, protect them if we can, out of respect for the Old Ones who made us and gave us gifts too. The shifters, they're human most of the time, but can change to animal, though there's different stories as to what lets them or makes them do that; heard all kinds a things bout that; some of those are okay, some aren't. Then there's the skinwalkers; they're witches, wear animal skins when they do their blood magic. Never heard of a good one of those."

Out of respect for Chief, no one rolled their eyes or made any loud groans like they would have if one of the others had been telling the story. Still, it wasn't like he'd made a lot of converts either.

Casino took a swig of bourbon and asked, "so why'd ya think Goniff was one a those 'wildlings'?" He frowned over at his best friend, "yer not, are ya? Cause I'm moving my cot if you're gonna start turning into something else in the middle of the night! Yer enough of a nuisance as it is!"

Goniff snorted, "no, I'm not, Casino. Guess I'd know if I was!!" only to catch that quick glance between Chief and Meghada again. He frowned at the pair of them, "come on, guys! Stop teasing!"

Chief shook his head, "not teasing, Goniff, it's just, sometimes things happen, ya know? A wildling can be walking around as human, maybe there's an accident or something, and he gets hurt, he forgets. There's stories about how some, they meet up with someone they like, fall in love, decide to stay human. Their kids, they don't always get told. Eventually, no one remembers anymore, still there's always a trace, a scent of the wildling about them, all down the line. And some part of them kinda remembers, you know? Always knows there's more, just outta reach."

Actor frowned at them, "you mean like Hans Christian Anderson's Mermaid?"

Meghada nodded, "aye, and there are many other stories like that, of the selkies and many others. You hear more of the sea creatures, because their stories usually end so badly. They have a harder time of it, poor things."

At the questioning looks, "their homeplace has a strong pull on the wildlings, always urging them back, whether earth or sea or sky. For the land creatures, they can sometimes slip away from everyone, breathe their native air, feel the soil under their bare feet without anyone taking much notice. For the sea creatures, discovery is always a constant danger, and they often either die from pining for their home, or are discovered and killed by the humans who discover what has been living amongst them." 

Casino had that 'yeah, pull the other one, sister' look he'd get when confronted with things outside his experience. "You ever MEET one a these wildlings, or shifters or whatever? In person, I mean?" with a snort.

She grinned at him, "my great uncle Milo was a wildling; he died when I was young, he and my aunt of course, since she followed him on The Long Road, but I remember him. He always told me he'd never intended to stay; had been out satisfying his endless curiosity when he met my Aunt Liddie and just never quite made it home again. But they DID tell their kids, so my cousins all know. Well, the wildlings have mixed and bred with the Clan often enough over all the long years; there are a lot of stories going back to Medara ru Dragan's time and before. The shifters, not so much. In fact, I can't think of any in the past several generations. We don't mix much with them at all; our philosophies differ too much, probably. And the skinwalkers, no, never. Like Chief said, they're witches, and the Clan and the witches? Well, almost as bad as the Clan and the druids!"

Casino had decided to play along; after all, there might be some fun in it, and he'd had too much to drink to think of a change of conversation anyway. "Don't get along? Like they argue all the time?"

She laughed a rueful laugh, "you could say that! Oh, both sides start out trying to be polite, respectful, but it never lasts long. Put the Clan and either group within the same territory and it's not long before there's a pile of ashes and bone chips to remind everyone still standing of all the old stories! They just do NOT mix well!"

That had got them all asking for stories, Casino still teasing Goniff about going hairy all of a sudden, Goniff retorting how he knew the first person he'd be taking a bite out of if he did, if Casino didn't stop and right now! There was general hilarity at that, loud and long. Chief had nodded to Meghada, effectively turning the crowd over to her, having already said far more than he was comfortable saying at any one time.

Meghada looked them over; this crew was NOT headed back to the Mansion tonight, not unless she did the driving, and she wasn't really in the mood to try and wrangle them all into the jeep. So, she poured out a half-cup of richly creamed coffee each, hers being strong enough for that to count as for two cups of anyone else's, slid a basket of thick sweet biscuits onto the table, and went into story-telling mode.

Chief cleared away the debris of glasses, cards, saucers and all else. Casino shifted to one of the big arm chairs to listen in more comfort, and Goniff settled down, listening, but with his arms folded on the table in front of him and his chin resting on his arms, his eyes never leaving her face, an eager smile on his face, an almost child-like wonder in his eyes as she started the story. Garrison was ostensibly more alert, but a look at his eyes showed that alertness was mostly a con. Actor sighed and moved to the other arm chair, but obviously still listening, intrigued now in spite of himself. They listened as the tale unfolded, even more drowsily as it moved toward the ending.

"And Tadarim gathered them around her, those she shared her life, her bed with - Falon, maker of music; Jenara, dreamer and fashioner of design; Fen, who could write songs to make your heart weep or sing; Ware, a scholar if not of renown then certainly of ability; Kanalia, warrior. While Falon was a Clan cousin, the others had once been Outlanders, jewels cast carelessly down amongst the cobblestones, left there for another, one with better vision, one much wiser to gather them to her. And she touched their heads, and smiled, but with serious eyes, and her words were most serious indeed. For she told them of another, one Destin by name, who called to her heart, and of her intention to follow her heart as it led. For, being Clan, how could she do otherwise? And at their urging, she told of the wildling she'd come across, wounded and unsure, and how in the caring for him, she'd Bound herself to him, without intending to. Now, he felt the draw of others of his kind, his pack, and wanted to go, to make sure they were safe, for it had been in a fierce battle that he'd been separated from them. "There is plenty here; you each have your own place within the Clan and that will not change. You will not go wanting," she assured them. Falon asked the question they were all thinking, "and do you no longer want us? You wish to leave us behind?" only to get her fervent denial. "No, for leaving you will be like leaving part of my heart. But as much as it saddens my heart to leave you behind, it would sadden me even more if I led you into danger, for Destin says the journey might be long and perilous." They urged her to bring this Destin to them, so that they might meet him, and she did, and there was mutual respect given and shared. After Destin was led to a room to rest, Fen asked Tadarim, "what draws you, do you know?" And Tadarim paused, and a very odd smile came to her face. "He is such a bundle of contradictions, Fen. Wise and foolish, gentle and fierce, knowing and not-knowing. I know not if all the wildlings are like unto him, but if they are, they are well worth the knowing. He is truly . . ." and she and Fen said the words together, sharing a smile, "a jewel amongst the cobblestones." And when the morning came, they went forward as a band, a family, Tadarim and those who had been hers before, along with Destin, who was as if he had always been a part of them. And so it was, during the searching and the finding and the returning, til they trod The Long Road together, all of them, many many many years later, and from that day the wildlings were considered, if not Clan, then certainly those worthy of becoming Clan, should the right jewel catch the right eye."

The evening ended with Casino snoring in one big easy chair, Actor in the other, Garrison laying forward in his chair with his head across the card table doing the same. Goniff was at that same table, soft mutterings coming from him as he squirmed a little in the chair, his head now nestled down sideways on his supporting arms. Chief had gone to fetch the spare blankets and pillows from the back closet, stood in the doorway, watching her as she smiled that odd little smile, brushed her hand softly, ever so gently across Goniff's ashen blond head - as she leaned down to kiss his hair and whispered, "sleep well, my wildling, sleep well."

She still had that smile on her face when she turned and saw Chief, but there was no embarrassment in her eyes as her gold-brown ones met his much darker ones. Just a calm acknowledgement, a knowing and an accepting, that there was much the two of them knew and understood and shared that the rest just didn't, maybe couldn't. And somehow, that was good too, that there was at least one other here who DID understand what they had, what they needed to appreciate and cherish and protect.


End file.
